I made the leap from Blogger to WordPress in early August with a lot of help from Ashley of My Front Porch Swing  and have turned to her more times than I care to admit since then with questions and utter freak outs over missing posts and widget help. Ashley, I am grateful to you and appreciate your patience with me. I still have have much to learn about WordPress!

Today, I am pleased to share Ashley’s loving letter to her daughter and I am particularly proud of her for stepping out of her guest posting comfort zone to write such a tender piece for my series.

My darling daughter,

What you won’t remember.

You won’t remember your fight to be here. The surgery when you were only halfway done. The hospitalizations that your sweet, loving brother took in stride. That your daddy worried through but during which stood strong. The terror, fear, and absolute determination to meet you grown and strong. Absolute gratification, relief, and complete joy that filled us all when you arrived – and were, indeed, fine.

You won’t remember your first time at the beach. The gulf’s breeze blew around us, the water just a bit too cold to enjoy. Snuggled deep inside a wrap tied to close to my heart, you were barely aware of your surroundings. You won’t remember the cool sand, the gull’s cries, or the waters lullaby.

You won’t remember your fight with pneumonia. The stark, white walls of the hospital. The compassion in your nurses eyes. You won’t remember me holding onto you so tight they had to pry my fingers just to set you down. You won’t remember the thousand prayers I sent up to those we lost, higher powers above, and anyone else who would listen.

You won’t remember your first steps. The strength, courage, and fearlessness in which you moved along. You won’t remember me sinking to my knees in wonder, delight, and trepidation that you were gaining independence. You won’t remember the tears on my face as I tried to commit every.single.second to memory while grabbing the first camera I could find.

You won’t remember my reluctance to leave you. In the beginning, the time I spent away from you was counted in minutes. The nervousness as I kissed you goodnight, and eventually goodbye when I finally gained the nerve to trust you would be all right. The tears I shed over being away from you and your brother will not register in your memories – but they are sure burned in mine.

You won’t remember the first time you said, “I love you”. When you gazed up into my eyes with such loyalty, affection, and adoration, I learned all over again the meaning of true love. There is no greater love than that of a child, and you won’t remember the thrill of joy and contentment that filled my heart when you spoke those three words.

You won’t remember the moments I thought of your life ahead, of the people you will meet, those you will love, the accomplishments you will achieve. You won’t remember the emotions that struggle to prevent me from completing my thoughts. You will build an abundance of memories and none of them will be lacking in love. You won’t remember the moment I wrote this with such conviction and belief in the amazing woman you are going to become.

Whatever the future brings, there is so, so much you won’t remember.

But even with all you won’t remember, I still hope you never forget.

I love you,
Mommy

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